Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

An amazing weekend

I had the most amazing weekend on the mountain. I left my computer home since I’ve been writing so many stories for the express, and figured I’d take the 4-day shift at the dam to relax and read some books. LIttle did I know there would be so much to write about. The weekend involved making new friends, running across some old friends, getting soggy during a torrential night of rain, and some bittersweet realizations about myself.

First off, after a couple of emotional weeks covering stories in town, I had a lot going through my mind when I arrived, mostly, I realized later, negative stereotypes about people in town that I’ve carried with me since my upbringing here. I was raised here by a country boy, who hailed from the wrong side of the river, and a hippie he brought home from Salt Lake City. They both have good hearts, and are hard, honest working people. But, this isn’t the most diverse/accepting town, so there was some prejudice/injustices/challenges we faced growing up. Since I’ve already mentioned that my whole world does revolve around me, I realized part of my coming back here was to prove, or disprove my perceptions from my childhood.

I realized, after my amazing weekend on the mountain, that perhaps I’ve come back deliberately looking for the bad that I remember. I’ve had no trouble finding a few injustices since I’ve returned, but certainly have failed to attempt to find the good. So, after an inspiring weekend, I’ve decided that I’m going to put a conscious effort into looking for the positive influences in this town, and trying to embrace the goodness that is here, rather than seek out the negative.

I realized this while I was visiting with my new friend, J, who works at the Dam. She lives with her fiance in the trailer park below the Flaming Gorge Resort, and we had dinner after work then sat on her porch smoking. She filled me in on the gossip on the mountain, and apparently I can’t date anyone up there either. It’s such a small town that most of the single people have already cycled through each other, and after realized the one cute guy I was was actually already J’s fiance, I bagged the thought of mingling with men on the mountain. After visiting with J and listening to her stories about her travels, and complaining to her about the people I’ve run across in town lately, she reminded me that “Oh, there’s always good people everywhere.”

Labor day weekend on the dam was very wet, at least my last night. It rained heavily from 10 p.m. until noon the next day, including heavy lightning and roaring thunder. Although I stayed warm and dry, the torrential rains eventually made their way into my tent a little, and there was a point, at about 3:30 in the morning, that I got scared because the lightning was getting bad. I knew it wasn’t close enough that I should worry, but the rain pounding on my tent, along with the sky lit by lightning and the rumbling thunder was spooky, and I considered for the first time ever, getting out of my tent and going to sleep in my car. But I willed myself to go back to sleep, and after I finally dozed off again, I dreamt that my mom and dad were there. They had come to visit me, and each of them gave me a great big hug, and we joked around and were laughing. In my dream I could feel their arms around me and the safety they brought with them, and when I awoke again I was no longer afraid. In fact I was able to laugh at myself when I woke up, realizing the insanity of being in a tent all alone, on a spooky mountain, planning my escape to my car. I obviously lived through the night, and impressed myself by breaking my camp in 15 minutes flat. I made it to work on time, and spent the day telling anyone who would listen to me about my adventurous evening.

Through the course of the weekend, I was surprised by my old landlord, whom I became friends with while renting from him in West Jordan for almost six years, and left just two months ago. He showed up with his family for a dam tour. I also ran into a young girl I used to work with in Salt Lake, who was friends with Olympia, an old friend of mine, who is also an old friend of my good friend Julie at the Tribune. I chatted with some hunters who are related to my original editor at the Trib, and gave a tour to some missionaries who were in a picture that ran with one of my stories last week about senior citizens fishing. The missionaries went on the trip to help them out.

These events, combined with a long night of fearful solitude in my tent, made me think that perhaps I’ve been a bit judgemental of my new environment, and like the endless rain that washed over the mountain, I’ve washed away old perceptions, and will go forward with a fresh start, looking for the positive in everyone around me.